Sworn Off
by againstwincest
Summary: Meet Aislin. Not your average demon slaying teenager. Upon meeting Sam and Dean, she instantly falls for both of them. But this relationship should be kept strictly business; doesn't seem like that's happening anytime soon.


Love is a load of bullshit. A huge pile of it, too. It doesn't make any ounce of sense, and you just end up getting crushed. At least that was what my father always taught me. Whether he wanted his little princess to not take anyone's shit, or if he just didn't want grandchildren, I'll never know.

"Aislin! Get your ass over here," my oldest brother whispered to me from across the deserted hallway.

We'd been investigating a murder at some high school in Fort Wayne, Texas. I was definitely over this ridiculous heat. This entire job was a massive waste of time; a kid died, big fucking deal. I walked over to Conell, exaggerating a long sigh that showed his I wasn't in the mood. His face was stark white and I noticed he was having sever trouble speaking coherently.

I followed his gaze to see a young boy, about 12, his neck bent at an unnatural angle. He stumbled towards Conell and I, both of his bare feet tracking dark mud. THis was the same boy that was buried 6 feet under not even an hour ago. Blood pooled beneath him from a sever on his chest and, his eyes were pitch black. His soul had been stolen and replaced with a demon.

"Fuck," I stammered, "what the hell do we do!" It was a statement, not a question. We both knew that we would panic no matter what.

The boy continued walking towards us, and Conell tugged on my arm, pulling us out of the room. He slammed the door, it's deafening echo reverberating in the now suffocating hallway. I heard footsteps behind us, and whipped around, my hand on the dagger hitched by my hip. Instead of seeing a monster, ready to rip my thought out, I saw some bastard with bright green eyes smirking at me.

"'Scuse me, dear," he snickered, "I have a little something to take care of behind you."

As if on cue, a hand slapped into the wood behind me, causing me to shriek. I turned scarlet almost instantly. A lock of blonde hair fell into my eyes, and the stranger reached to tuck it behind my ear. Slapping his hand out of the way, I snarled at him.

"Do what you need to do, and then leave." I muttered, "we were here first, dammit."

His sideways smirk made my insides churn. Who did this asshole think he was? This was my hunt, and no one else's. Backing away from the door, he glided past me, his hand brushing mine for a split second. We seemed to hold eye contact, his emeralds burning holes into my plain hazel eyes. He walked with the utmost confidence; I was beginning to admire how sure of himself he appeared to be.

I looked to my other side to see Conell staring at me. His lips were pulled tightly across his face; his eyes looked dark.

"What the hell was that?"

"You know we couldn't of handled that. That thing would've killed us. We have no idea what-."

"But we're so sure that some sketchy guy who just so _happens_ to show up out of no where know what he's doing? For all we know he could be trying to kill us as well!"

Conell's blue eyes flamed with rage; for the first time in a long time, he wanted nothing to do with me.

A man down the hallway began to job towards us. Out of habit, I slipped the handle of my blade into my awaiting hand.

"Is Dean in there?" the man called.

Oh of course there were more of him.

"For fuck's sake," Conell cried, "why do you keep popping up?"

The man looked nothing like his partner; less cocky and more innocent. He had deep brown eyes and a baby-like face. There was something incredibly soothing about how he carried himself. He swatted at thick brown hair that swung in front of his chocolate eyes.

"Sam," he told me softly, "Winchester."

Winchester? That meant there were two of them. The Winchester brothers were the biggest name in the hunting business. I had idolized their father since before I even knew what "hunting" meant.

"A-aislin," I stammered, completely lost in his eyes, "O'Brien,"

Sam smiled sweetly at me, looking over my shoulder at the closed door.

"Let's hope he's not dead," he muttered, a hint of worry in his eyes.

Conell snorted, and he soon received a sharp jab to the side from the hilt of my knife. We made a long eye contact, both of our eyes venomous. He grimaced at me, and rolled his eyes. My eyes grazed Sam's body slowly, absorbing every detail. From his nervous hands, wringing each other over and over, to his eyes, dark and distressed. It was boys like him that got me in trouble with myself.

My stare down with Sam's body was quickly ended when the door was whipped open, the heavy doorknob smacking against my tailbone.

"Shit!" I yelped, jumping back. I saw Dean's amused smile, right in front of me. He bent down, and I could smell his tantalizing scent of sweat and musk. His lips grazed my earlobe, his breath warming my cheeks.

"Watch out next time," he warned me softly, "sweetheart."

Sam pulled him away from me, a serious look in his deep eyes. His face was tight and severe compared to Dean's light and cocky attitude. I didn't understand how two brothers could be so different from each other. Conell and my younger brother Patrick were practically conjoined twin if they weren't three long years apart.

"We were supposed to let them handle it, Dean," Sam scolded his older brother, "you could've been killed. No! You could've killed someone else!"

Dean rolled his eyes and looked pathetically at my brother and I. Instinctively, I crossed my arms in defense and glared at him. Ten minutes, and he was already on my fucking hit list.

"Well clearly they didn't know how to handle the situation at hand. We're pros, remember?" Dean leaned in towards his brother, as if I couldn't hear him taunting my family, "we can't let amateurs risk business for us."

"We were fine, you know," I called to Dean from the backseat of his sleek Impala.

He snorted, and glanced at me from his rearview mirror. His green eyes taunted me.

"Just keep telling yourself that, darlin'."

Sam turned around from his position in the passenger seat and gave me an apologetic look.

"That's just his way of saying thank you. Without you and your brother being there before us, we would've been completely and utterly fucked."

I kept a brick like composure but felt an instantly warm swell of pride bloom in my chest. I could see Dean was very aggravated with the fact that he had a couple of teenagers in his backseat; his knuckles formed pale, white knots on his steering wheel. Looking out the smudged window, the sky was clouding up and trees shook easily with a wind. Rainy weather was most definitely the best kind. Conell stared out his own window. Resting my hand lightly on his, he flinched softly. I knew he hated this scenario and I knew I should be on edge as well. We were in the backseat of a stranger's car. Never a decent situation.

"Can we go home now?" I whispered to Sam, leaning forward. I could smell him; sweet and light, nothing at all like his personality. His gaze lingered on my fingers, which rested on his forearm daintily.

Holy shit, was I trying to flirt?

"Actually, lovebirds, you can't go home," Dean announced to us, making me shrivel away from Sam's toned arm, "you're staying with us until we figure out what the hell is going on in this whack job town, got it?"

I didn't answer.

_Fuck._


End file.
